Bleach: The Espada's Dinner Party
by Tsukiko x3
Summary: When Aizen proudly declares a "Super-Special-Espada-Feast!"--wait, don't those last four words suffice your craving for a "summary"?


NOTE: I wrote this with the full intention knowing that it was **_NOT_** funny at all. Really, this is my first-ever attempt at writing a humorous fanfic, so please go easy on me with your comments of displeasure and distaste.

An image of the Espada all sitting at a table together in the 7th Opening of the anime inspired me.

--

Shifting white sands, with a downcast sky that never shines, a quietly, deadly, haunting world seemingly being the keeper of everything inhuman and terrifying. Hueco Mundo. Vast screeches of clawing nails resounding unpleasantly. Gillians, Adjuchas, Vasto Lordes, making up the population with a malicious appearance and defiance of anything that is but….normal, and civil. And, lastly, the diamond within the gems, the most "unbelievably-strong-powerful-fearful", Espada. If, such a title could be presented upon to them accordingly, respectively. For, really, after tonight-if night even ever ended in this pitch world-what was Aizen thinking, anonymous various thoughts asked themselves, when he gave life to these…strangely odd, supposively powerful creatures, by using the one and only breakdown sphere, the Hogyoku. Well…

"Tonight, my most precious Espada." Aizen, their commanding "leader" declared before them as if such an important issue was about to occur. "It's already been 3578 years, going by _our_ time, since I first created you with the marvelous Hogyoku." He smiled as if almost cunningly as he raised his two fingers to the bridge of his nose to push his glasses up, quite forgetting in that moment that he had thrown them off long, _long_ ago. All ten off the current Espada sat at a long, widespread table, sitting at intervals from each other according to their number given to them.

"What the heck…" Grimmjow sighed boredly as he sat slouched in his chair with his elbow resting upon the cold concrete table. "What's so special about that number?"

"Just listen to Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra said in that unenthused usual tone of his as if life itself was pointless and meager.

"Shut up, crybaby!" Grimmjow snapped flexing in his position in repulsive anger. Of course, the cyan tear-like lines that ran down the depressed fourth Espada's pale face indulged Grimmjow to call him such a name.

"Or should I say…Aizen's pet." He smirked, at his own thought "cleverness."

"That's enough, Grimmjow, please." Aizen intervened, still with that smudge grin splayed across his face. "You are all, more or less, equally dear to me. But, as I was saying before…yes, it's been 3578 years since the wonderful Espada were first given life into our Hueco Mundo. Former, present and even those that are unfortunately, most grievously, deceased." He paused as everything was oh so very deathly silent that it was almost suffocating. Except, for a tired yawn, obviously finding this already tiresome and dreary. "So, tonight…" Aizen continued on casually as he walked step by step around the table like a general commanding his army of soldiers. "I want to show my thanks, and, gratitude to you for helping me thus far; by declaring our very first annual, Super-Special-Espada-Feast!" Each of the Espada stared at this…deranged man, or so they thought, with gazes of simply, dumb-struck asking, "What the…?"

"Well as long as there's no work or fighting involved." Stark said to himself with another yawn, as the one mentioned before also belonged to him.

"What the heck is Aizen _thinking?_" Barragan thought to himself stiffly with a death-glare, trying to act cool, calm and collected, even though no point was present and therefore unnecessary to contrive such an act.

"If this is what the Espada are…maybe I should have just stayed a normal Arrancar." Halibel profoundly concluded to herself with agitation.

"This is so lame…." Ulquiorra thoughts spoke as he closed his green eyes melancholy at the stupidity of it all. His depression increasing at this, he also thought, idiotic proposal.

"A…what?!" Nnoitra exclaimed in his mind, dumbly confused by Aizen's "complicated" words. Really, they were just too mind-throttling for him to comprehend.

"Heh heh heh." Grimmjow laughed to himself like he was conjuring up an evil master plan, like that of the most common world domination, so to example. But…laughing about…what _exactly?_

"Maybe I can sneak out of stealthily." Zomnari said to himself nodding his head, as if he was bestowed honorably and solely with the sacred knowledge of the gods themselves. "Not that _anyone_ would notice…"

"_Oh-my-gosh!"_ Pink-haired Szayel exclaimed to himself (clearly over-dramatic), with a 'gasp!' "If there's food, I have to be extra-certain _**NOT**_ to spill any on my lovely, refined clothing!"

"…" Aaronien…said to himself…? If dots could be accounted as a sentence, let alone words. Now this one probably really could sneak away completely unnoticed.

"Ohhh!! A feast!! A banquet!! _A party!!_" Yammy cheerfully, extraordinarily happy, shouted out loud clapping his hands, his thoughts perhaps wanting to let themselves be known to the whole world. Every. Single. One of the nine Espada turned their eyes, and fixated them on him as if with utmost disdain, revolty staring at this loony Espada as if ashamed to be one themselves, if, this is how one of their own kind acted.

"That's the spirit, Yammy!" Aizen praised him, not in the least bit sarcastic as an impression might lead one to conclude. "All right, then! Everyone, please, I entreat, most assuredly reassure you, to enjoy our Super-Special-Espada-Feast!" Another excited "Yay!" resounded from the squealing Yammy, who, in actual fact, really did need to calm down. To put it simply, to shut up. The victuals and foods that were presented to them are just too horrid and unnaturally disgusting to put into words. For, Arrancars, Hollows, _Espadas,_ really did, supposively, eat other provisions besides those of tortured souls of the living dead. Now, what…kind of "Super-Special-Espada-Feast!" was this going to be? Perhaps it is too horrific to delve into any deeper.

--

Resuming the feast, as thusly contrived and explained above, the Espada, apparently, seemed to have been enjoying themselves most unexpectedly. But if you look at it from a sideline view as if watching a scene out of a play, you'd definitely come to the conclusion that it was all just a bunch of _childish_ arguing. Banging his fist on the table with an echoing _bam_ excitedly, Yammy pranced over to his pessimistic partner, Ulquiorra. An Espada…prancing…even the sight of it must be something to never forget, or perhaps, it would be better and stress relief to forget. But getting back to the feast, Ulquiorra sat there, unmoving unblinking, like a cold-blooded reptile. Lifeless, so he appeared. But that was only normal, yes, normal for this Arrancar to constantly being seeming to possess deep, dark negative thoughts in the vast depths of his mind.

"Ul-qui-or-ra!" Yammy called out in overly-happy syllables, even though, he was nigh an inch away from his partner. But shouting is apparently the only outlet when one is excited.

"Yammy…" Ulquiorra said in a very quiet, above-a-whisper, voice.

"C'mon! Ulqui! You're always so melancholic!"

"Y-Yammy." He replied as if shocked about something so incredibly unbelievable. "I'm surprised, honestly, that you know such a big word. At least, for your level, anyway."

"W-w-what…?" Yammy sniveled reproachfully.

"Come on…_seriously_. Don't cry." Ulquiorra looked away from the tenth Espada's nocturnal behavior as very loud, defiantly shouting arguing was heard in the marble room. And since it was shouting, it vibrated through the whole room like thunder and a lighting bolt. The source of the argument? No one else except known as Grimmjow and Nnoitra.

The whole childish, pointless argument thusly started out with a simple, if not particularly seemingly rude, question.

"So, Nnoitra." Grimmjow said as his clenched fist rested upon the table in a relaxed (?) manner. "Why is your number, your five, in such a _weird_ place?" He paused and added with a shudder as if fighting back the reaction of feeling cold. "I mean, it's on your tongue. _Ew."_

"How imprudent of you!" Nnoitra shouted rising to his feet, which was quite unnecessary in this case. "At least I didn't get the hell beat out of me by a mere substitute shinigami!"

"What was that?!" Grmmjow, now enraged, rose to his feet also, glaring at the fifth Espada with such burning hatred glazed in his eyes!

"Yeah." Smirked Nnoitra as he continued on. "Even in your _released form_. Which, by the way, makes you look like some enchanted little elf!"

"Bastard!" Grimmjow shouted in reply as he grabbed Nnoitra by the collar of his shirt. "I DO NOT look like an elf!"

"Elf!"

"But at least I don't look like a hideous spider, unlike you in your released form!"

"A…_what?!"_

"Yeah, with six arms and whatnot. And don't forget! You got the hell beaten out of you, too!"

"Humph." Nnoitra cockily smirked again as if superbly intelligent as he brushed away Grimmjow's grip on him like it was nothing. "Yes, but, mine wasn't a substitute shinigami who beat the hell out of me."

"But you still got beat!" He called out like a mere child who won't admit defeat, stubbornly.

"But it was by a captain. So therefore it's not as pathetic and disgraceful as a shinigami who's not even a full fledged one!" Suddenly, unexpectedly, a voice came between the two, a familiar, unpleasantly lilting, voice. "Hey ya guys."

They both turned stiffly as they saw none other than Ichimaru Gin, the second in command, so to say. He stood there as two thin lines joined together in a downward angle and made a slight curve to form a wicked smile. Both of the Espada immediately stopped mindlessly arguing at Gin's unwanted appearance.  
"Do I need ta tell ya guys the rules again of this here Hueco Mundo?" He said, barely moving his lips.

The "rules." A set of rules that took approximately 1500 years to fully read and or hear, going by Hueco Mundo's time, of course. To sit and bear the torment of hearing boring rules for 1500 years-who would want _that?_

"N-N-No, sir! Ichimaru-sama, sir!" The two now cowardly Espada both said hastily in a stammer, their knees wobbling.

"Good." Gin smiled still as he swiftly turned away from the two, his presence and even existence seemed to resemble that of a ghost. But heedlessly, and perhaps foolishly, they deluded Gin's fearful warning and proceed arguing feebly. The further arguing of the two became such a delicate concept as they continued to throw insults and the like, (like a couple of children) that it's obscured meaning might became further dull to read any more. More pointless drama of the "Super-Special-Feast!" was added as Szayel was heard, screaming at the top of his very lungs, "Oh, _no!_ Look what you did! _**Look what you did**_!" He was standing up straight as a poker as he held his shirt outstretched in front of him, as, heaven-forbid, an ugly greenish-bluish color was wholly visible on his purely white clothing.

"You! You oaf!" He shouted with more conviction than necessary, as he pointed one, long, skinny finger at tough-looking Barragan, who, sat exactly across from him. (They all moved around the table and changed seats, regardless of their numbers.)  
"Look what you did! Knocking over that goblet, staining my perfect clothing! It's unforgivable!" A heavy, suffocating atmospheric aura loomed over the clearly-irritated second Espada as he rose to his feet, all ominous and scary, as he towered over the flimsy Szayel, who was much lower in rank than him. The fool.

"Have you forgotten your number, you _pink_ ant?" He said in a booming voice as everyone, even Grimmjow and Nnorita who were _still_ fighting, became utterly silent like the room suddenly became a funeral home now.

"AA-A-Ah…" Szayel stammered obviously scared-to-death as his strong finger now became a shaky one, slowly, slowly, rising downwards.

"N-N-N-N-N-No! S-S-Sir! Barrgan-s-s-sama, s-s-sir!" He bowed so very quickly who knows how many times as he smiled nervously between his pink glasses. "I-I-I'm going to go change now. Y-you see. S-so if you'll j-just e-excuse m-m-me…" He dashed away! At lighting speed! On his light feather feet! Like a frightened rabbit scurrying away from the hunter.

"He ran away…" Halibel, who sat nearby, said to herself with a clearly bored-out-of-my-mind sigh.

"Ran the _hell_ away!" Stark grinned to himself as if he found the whole scene very amusing and to his satisfaction.

Thus, the "Super-Special-Espada-Feast!" as Aizen had idiotically named, came to an end shortly. But, behind in the shadows watching, or rather _hearing_, the whole charade was none other than Tousen.

"T-These are the…Espada that Aizen is…so…_proud_ about?" The word "proud" proved to be difficult for him to say, let alone comprehend.

"The only one I really did not hear speak was Aaronien. No, if the others are like this, then I don't even want to _imagine_ how Aaroien acts." He shuddered. "I should have stayed in Soul Society after all."

--

Anyone else think Grimmy really did look like an elf in his released form? :3 And poor Aaronien, since I know nothing about him, he got no role. Neither really did Zomnari...or however you spell his name. Well, most of my FFs are serious, so...I'm not quite sure how this one turned out.


End file.
